


A killing hit of pink

by schrijverr



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, BAMF John Watson, Badass John, Gen, Paintball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrijverr/pseuds/schrijverr
Summary: John smokes everyone at paintball~Most people forgot John was a soldier. It was easy to forget, of course, he was soft smiles and big sweaters.Lets go back a week, shall we. It was after a case and John and Sherlock were giving a statement when Lestrade came up to them. He asked: “Hey, we’re going paintballing next week. Do you want to come?”John nodded and Sherlock grunted noncommittally. Lestrade gave them the address and said: “We are going at ten. If you’re not there at 09:55 we’ll assume you’re busy. See ya.”Then he disappeared.





	A killing hit of pink

**Author's Note:**

> I've also posted this on my tumblr (@schrijverr)

Most people forgot John was a soldier. It was easy to forget, of course, he was soft smiles and big sweaters.

Lets go back a week, shall we. It was after a case and John and Sherlock were giving a statement when Lestrade came up to them. He asked: “Hey, we’re going paintballing next week. Do you want to come?”  
John nodded and Sherlock grunted noncommittally.

Lestrade gave them the address and said: “We are going at ten. If you’re not there at 09:55 we’ll assume you’re busy. See ya.”  
Then he disappeared. 

~

And that’s how John and Sherlock ended up at a paintball range that Sunday. The whole team was there Lestrade, Anderson, Donovan and more that they never really took the time to talk to. In total there were ten. When they entered the room it fell still with some mouths opened wide. Lestrade found his wits first: “You came! Sorry, of course, we invited you, but I didn’t think you’d both show.”

“Oh, sorry, we can go if you like.” John was quick to say.

“No need to apologize, John. What Lestrade here means is that he is surprised I came. I have of course been invited to these before, but never showed, seeing that it’s a waste of time.” Sherlock said.

“Why did you show this time then?” Anderson asked.

Sherlock shot him a look and then smirked. He answered: “Well, before I didn’t have an opportunity to see you all go down easily. This time, now, this time will be a treat.”  
“You think you can take us all?” Donovan challenged.

“Oh, no, not me.” Sherlock didn’t clarify and went on, “and if I’m honest, if I could watch from outside I would, but you have to participate to see. So, sadly I’m here. Now come one, we don’t have all day.”  
The Yarders shot looks to each other to see if the others understood what he meant, but came up empty. No one spared a glance to the doctor in the corner, who did understand. John smiled to himself, some here hadn’t been to kind to Sherlock, he was hoping for a bit of payback and John was happy to oblige. 

They all got a minute to spread out through the designated area. The rules were simple: everyone had a colour and in the end it was the amount of times you hit minus the amount of times you got hit. Highest score won. If you manages to hit everyone you got five extra points. An alarm signaled the beginning, the game had begun.

It was all great fun and everyone was laughing, yes, even Sherlock, albeit for another reason, but smiling none the less. If you got hit you looked around and shot back to the person, but there was one colour no one could get a shot back at. Hell, most of the time the person who got hit didn’t even see where it had come from. You just suddenly felt a hit and you would look only to find a pink mark. Everyone wondered who the fuck this person was and tried to think of everyone who participated to figure out who they hadn’t seen yet, but everyone overlook the doctor. Always invisible at Sherlocks side, always just there, no one seeing the years of training and fighting hidden under the lairs of sweaters, no one seeing the smart brain full of medical knowledge that was out-shined by the brightness of Sherlocks brain. No one saw, except Sherlock himself.

The buzzer sounded and all stopped shooting. They gathered at the assigned spot and a person from the paintball rank came out to count the score. They also took the opportunity to laugh at each other and all the marks they bore. In the past insulted people (everyone) took great joy in Sherlock who was hit an average amount of times. He also supported two pink spots, he was hit, but not as much as the rest. In this process they also noticed John. The man had silently stood at the sidelines watching everyone with a fond smile when Anderson said: “Hey, check it out. John has only been hit thrice.”

Everyone looked at John now. He to see that he indeed bore only three marks, none of them pink. There were two blue ones, those were Sherlock and a yellow one from Lestrade. He looked kind of embarrassed at the attention as he rubbed the back of his head. Luckily he was saved from answering questions by worker with the scores. She said: “I here have the scores and I will read you the top three and then give one of you the list so you can see everyones score, OK?”

There were some nods and she continued: ”In third place there is: Greg Lestrade, with 20 points, congratulations!”

Some cheered and applauded and Lestrade had a pleased smile on his face. The worker went on: “In second is: Will Treaty, with 22 point, you too congratulations!”  
Again people cheered and someone yelled: “Close call.”

Everyone knew that the first place was for the person who had shot with pink, but they were all eager to know who it was. Sherlock scoffed, it was obvious, if you just observed. The worker was talking again: “And in first place is, John Watson, with a grand total of 41 points, a new record! So extra big congratulations to you! Here is the list and please hand in the equipment at the desk.”

Then she left leaving everyone to gather their wits and regain their voices. “How the fuck did you do that? You’re a doctor!’”Donovan exclaimed, finding her voice first.

Others around her agreed as they scrutinized John. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and said: “Not just a doctor, an army doctor.”

“But army doctors, just sit in tents, right? Behind the line of fire, not as other soldiers. How did you learn to shoot like that.” Anderson blurted out.

A fierce look overtook the doctor. He didn’t mind being in Sherlocks shadow, in fact he was quite comfortable there, it was easy when no one looked at you first, but he wouldn’t let people walk over his work in the army, because they were dumb fucks. He shot back: “Watch who you’re talking to. I am Captain John Watson in the fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. I didn’t stay behind the line of fire. I operated on gunpoint, out in the field, so that my man could go back and shoot more enemies before they succumbed to their injuries or made it back in the retreat. You got to shoot someone if you don’t want them to stop you from saving a mans life. So, don’t you think you know about how it’s like out there when you’ve never seen with your own eyes.”

He had used, what Sherlock called, his captain-voice and after his little speech he curtly walked away to change back into his normal clothes. Behind him one of the others hit Anderson and someone else said: “Idiot, don’t be disrespectful.”

Meanwhile Lestrade connected two dots. He turned to Sherlock and said: “You knew. You told us we’d all go down easily. We thought you were being a narcissistic prick.”

“Ah, finally you start to use your brain. Maybe you can solve another mystery if you go on like this.” Sherlock said as he followed John.

Lestrade was looking confused and he raised an eyebrow at the others, who all shrugged. They also made their way to the changing room. It wasn’t until later when they were drinking that Lestrade suddenly solved it. The comment had been eating at him and he had been filing through all the cases he had worked with John and Sherlock, when it hit him, the cabbie. He always wondered who’d done it and now it seemed so simple. It had been John. He wanted to tell someone he had solved it, but decided it was best not to mention that John had murdered someone to anyone, seeing that it is illegal. 

Meanwhile everyone else had unanimously decided to leave John alone and not provoke the man and honestly when John noticed later, he couldn’t help, but be pleased. Bedsides how could you not be when it also extended a bit to Sherlock. all nice guy. So, when they invited him and Sherlock for their annual paintball fight they weren’t expecting to get smoked by him.


End file.
